


Within

by LectorEl



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Porn, Ra's is creepy, consent issues ahoy, so very creepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:46:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LectorEl/pseuds/LectorEl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The scribe and the incubus meet. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Who_First](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Who_First/gifts).



Timothy shifted slightly in his sleep. Just enough for the crucifix the scribe wore to fall away from his neck, onto the thin cotton sheets. Ra’s smiled and cut the ribbon the crucifix hung on. He lifted the religious artifact by the short end, setting it aside on Timothy’s nightstand.

“Lovely boy,” Ra’s breathed, stroking his soft cheek. Asleep, prey to his unconscious mind, Timothy shifted and pressed into the touch. Ra’s smiled, and kissed the sleeping boy.

“I will bring you such pleasure,” Ra’s promised, and bit down on Timothy’s lip. Venom coursed into his veins, sending him deeper into sleep and immobilizing him. Ra’s arched his wings around them, enveloping Timothy in darkness. Another twist of will from Ra’s dropped a veil of silence over the small cell. Timothy made a soft sound of distress.

“Shh, Timothy,” Ra’s hushed, petting Timothy’s face. “All is well, little prophet. Be still.” Once Timothy gentled under Ra’s hands, he displaced Timothy’s patched blanket and turned his attention to the boy’s nightshirt. The row of buttons down the front came undone easily in Ra’s hands.

The scars Ra’s had left on his torso had faded to thin, blurred lines, a decade’s growth softening the once stark edges of Ra’s’ claim. Ra’s ran his fingers over the marks lightly, making Timothy shiver in his sleep.

Ra’s bit the join of his neck, delicately licking up the spilled blood. Under his ministrations, the wound knit shut, leaving only a pale discoloration on Timothy’s skin where Ra’s had renewed his claim. Ra’s smiled against Timothy’s neck.

“Mine,” he said. Ra’s stroked down Timothy’s sides, dipping into the valley of his hip, and trailing teasingly along the edges of his groin. Timothy’s eyelashes fluttered, and he moaned softly. Ra’s sighed regretfully. His hold on Timothy wasn’t complete enough for that. Not yet.

Ra’s kissed Timothy one last time, and did up the buttons of his nightshirt. “Dream of me, beloved. I will come for you soon.”

***

Tim stirred from a restless sleep at the first bell of the day. He felt exhausted and wrung out, despite having gone to sleep directly after evening mass for once. He sat up in bed, yawning, and noticed his missing crucifix.

He blinked sleepily several times before his eyes fixed on his simple nightstand. His crucifix was sitting on it, the ribbon cut neatly like someone had a taken a knife to it. Tim picked it up, staring.

The wind whispered warnings in his air through the tiny window of his cell.  
As the warning bell rang, Tim shook his head and pulled it on, tying the cut ends together. He shucked on his robe and sandals, and ran for morning mass.

Tim sat through mass, body going through the motions while his mind drifted. He was so tired lately, and he had no idea why. Was he becoming ill? Tim frowned and set the question aside, doing his best to listen to the sermon.

After mass and the morning meal, Tim sat down to his task for the day: translating and copying more of the Italian treatise on the nature of God. Tim suppressed a groan. He had been at the task for the better part of a month now.

To be blasphemously frank, Tim couldn’t see how anyone had the patience to write the awful thing in the first place. Texts like this one made him question how he would survive another forty years as a scribe.

His mind drifted to the dream he’d had last night, and Tim blushed furiously. It was not at all appropriate to be dreaming of- his mind stuttered. Of the sort of relations reserved for a man and his wife, and certainly not with another man. What was wrong with him lately?

Tim bit down on his lip harshly, and forced his eyes back to the Italian text. The words blurred in the monastery’s dim candlelight. It was going to be a long day.  
Three hours and four pages later, the midday bell rang. Tim rose gratefully from his hunched position and made his way to the kitchen.

He snuck a roll and a mug of cider, and retreated to the roof. The wind whispered around him, tossing autumn leaves in the October air. Tim sighed, and slumped against the main chimney. He took off his crucifix and lay it aside, rubbing at the irritated skin under it. First his exhaustion, now this mysterious rash. He would have to go to the infirmary soon. No matter how reluctant he was to do so.

Tim leaned back against the chimney and shut his eyes. Only for a little bit, he reassured himself.

***

“Ahh, Timothy,” the man from his dream murmured. “You are wasted on such plebeian tasks.” He cradled Tim gently in his arms, Tim’s back against his chest. Tim smiled. Just a dream. So it was okay to relax and turn his head into the man’s neck. A large hand combed through his hair, and rough lips pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

Hands tugged his hair aside, and fangs nipped at his earlobe, drawing blood. Tim’s eyes fluttered open to see stiff, dark hair, and the blur of one green eye in the corner of his vision. The man chuckled, and pressed Tim’s eyes closed, kissing each eyelid in turn.

“Soon, beloved,” The man whispered in his ear. “Very soon. Even the holiest of things may be corrupted. Your father was a fool to think sending you here would keep me away.”

***

Tim woke, oddly chilled, and shivered. That dream! It was far too much like the nightmares he’d had after the accident. Tim remembered waking one night, soon after, and seeing a shadowy figure with poisonous green eyes and a bloodstained mouth.

He’d screamed loud enough to wake the dead. But when Bruce had searched his room, there wasn’t a trace of an intrusion. Tim had been sent away to the monastery soon after.

It had been a harsh lesson in keeping his oddness to himself. Other people were uneasy when Tim spoke of the wind’s prophesies or the watchful figures that never entirely went away. He had been sent away from his parents, from innumerable foster families, and finally from Bruce before he learned his lesson. He kept silent about the things he saw now.

The second bell of the afternoon rang, and Tim pushed to his feet. He ignored the wave of dizziness that followed, and hurried, reluctantly, back to his work. His crucifix lay forgotten on the stonework.

***

Ra’s alighted down in a clearing near the monastery, and sent out a summoning. ‘ _Timothy_ ,’ he whispered into his beloved’s sleeping mind. ‘ _Arise. Come to me, little prophet._ ’ He felt Timothy’s mind summon up resistance, and smothered it. So easy, now that his venom ran thick in Timothy’s veins again.

‘ _Come_ ,’ he called again, lullingly. He smiled as Timothy’s resistance crumbled, and the boy quietly rose from his bed. Barely a quarter of an hour passed before Timothy stumbled into the clearing, barefooted and glassy-eyed.

“Beloved,” Ra’s said. He folded his wings around the boy, and kissed him deeply. Another bite sent more venom into Timothy’s blood, and Ra’s could feel the last vestiges of resistance fell away. Timothy arched into the kiss, eyes wide and unseeing.

Ra’s unbuttoned his nightshirt and let it fall away to the ground, revealing Timothy’s lovely, pale body. He appraised Timothy leisurely, lingering appreciatively. At last, he guided Timothy down to a patch of bare stone, laying him out naked and vulnerable before Ra’s.

“Oh, beloved, you are beautiful,” Ra’s murmured. “And all mine.”


	2. In Blood

Ra’s bit down on Timothy’s neck, blood spilling and trailing down his neck to drip onto the stone below. Timothy shuddered beneath him, eyes hazed and dark.

“Mine, little prophet,” Ra’s hissed. Timothy nodded jerkily. He leaned up, bracing himself with one hand, the other skimmed over Ra’s chest. Lingering on the wide, cross-shaped burn on Ra’s’ left side. Ra’s caught his hand and brought it to his lips, kissing Timothy’s fingertips.

“Do you remember this, beloved?” Ra’s asked, catching Timothy’s gaze with his own.

Timothy moaned. “Th-the accident?” His voice shook. Ra’s smiled, blood still coating his teeth.

“It was no accident. Remember.” Ra’s cupped the side of Timothy’s neck, and from there, slid his hand into the boy’s hair. He pulled, exposing the long line of Timothy’s neck, and lapped at the blood pooling in the hollow of his throat. Timothy moaned again, and clung to Ra’s shoulders. Ra’s smiled against Timothy’s throat, savoring this long denied victory. He drew his wings tight around both of them, until only a sliver of moonlight intruded onto the dark cocoon.

“It was- ah!” Timothy gasped as Ra’s leaned downward to bite at exposed nipples. “It was darrr~k. The horses sp _oo_ ked and the carr- carriage overturned.” Ra’s kissed him deeply, swallowing Timothy’s shriek as he slid a finger inside the boy.

“And how did you end up uninjured save a few cuts?” Ra’s asked in a low voice, splaying his free hand over the faded scars on Timothy’s belly. “When all the others died?” He crooked his finger, making Timothy startle and gasp.

“I-I,” Timothy stared up at Ra’s beseechingly. Ra’s smiled darkly.

“ _Remember_ , my prophet,” Ra’s ordered. “Remember who drew you from the wreckage and healed your wounds.”

Tim gasped again, gaze sharpening. “You… the green-eyed man.”

“Yes.” Ra’s slid another finger into Timothy, scissoring them and making Timothy’s eyes haze and slid back toward incoherence. Ra’s smirked, and reached between their bodies to fondle Timothy’s neglected erection. Timothy moaned, falling fully back under Ra’s hold.

Timothy dropped his head onto Ra’s shoulder, and dug his nails into Ra’s back. Ra’s smirked. He gripped the back of Timothy’s neck with his free hand, before pulling out. Timothy whined, and Ra’s chuckled.

“Soon,” he promised. He snapped his fingers, a twist of will slicking them with lube, and slid back inside. He pressed against Timothy’s prostate. The boy jerked, nails digging deeper and drawing blood. Ra’s gripped the boy’s hair and dragged him up for a bloody, thorough kiss.

‘ _I will bring you such pleasure_ ,’ Ra’s promised. The head of his erection pressed up against Timothy, and with a hard thrust, he was inside.

Timothy was heat and pressure, and the unmistakable sensation of Ra’s’ own magic. Ra’s smiled savagely. His, entirely. Timothy’s father couldn’t stop him now. Not this time. The sweet pain of Timothy’s blunted claws burned in counterpart to his wet, welcoming heat.

Timothy’s mouth opened in silent scream, before he bit down on Ra’s shoulder. Ra’s purred. He cupped the back of Timothy’s head, stroking down his spine. He felt it when Timothy’s blunt human teeth broke through the skin, blood staining the boy’s lips.

“Drink,” Ra’s commanded, still thrusting into him. Timothy nodded against his shoulder, swallowing. He shuddered, and raised his head to look at Ra’s. Revealing slit-pupiled eyes, glowing faintly in the dark. Ra’s nipped at his lip and pulled him into a thorough, _bloody_ , kiss.

‘ _Beautiful._ ’ Ra’s pounded into Timothy, holding his beloved tightly against himself. Timothy shuddered and _clenched_. Never turning his newly-inhuman eyes from Ra’s own.

Ra’s smirked into the kiss, and thrust one last time. Coming, and sending Timothy off the edge as he did.

Timothy shrieked, golden-green sigil burning to life on his shoulder where the vicious bite mark had been moments earlier. He stared up at Ra’s blearily, before his eyes slid shut and he slumped downwards.

Ra’s brushed his bangs from his eyes, oddly tender. “Oh, beloved. This is only the beginning.” He gathered up the unconscious boy, wrapping him in his discarded nightshirt. Soon enough, he would have wings of his own, but for now, only Timothy’s eyes revealed the change that had taken place.

Ra’s smiled cruelly. “We should visit your father soon, my prophet.” He tucked Timothy’s head under his own, and took wing.


End file.
